Your erotic stories

Alright, so I last told you about Becky in Young Jason's Experiences. Becky had received a call from her friend Rhonda when we were together, and that planted the idea in my head that Becky would have some friends possibly as gorgeous as herself. After Becky and I parted ways, I felt so satisfied and I just hoped that she felt the same way. We both agreed that we would have to get together again, and the thought that she had enough fun to want more in the future made me feel great.

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It's odd how you tell one car from another just by sound, but I knew it was Aunt Em when I heard the car pull into the driveway. She's not actually my aunt. She and Mom were college roommates and have been joined-at-the-hip best friends ever since. Her parents stuck her with the name Frances Marie. Everyone calls her Marie except Mom, who calls her Frankie. I couldn't say Aunt Frankie or Aunt Marie when I was young so she was always Aunt Em to me until recently. Now I call her Frankie, the way Mom does.

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I'm a 72 year old male in fairly good condition, all things considered. I do my sit-up exercises including push-ups and walk regularly. My regular route is a little over two miles. So I'm in better shape than many my age. However, I enjoy food and a friendly drink so I'm a little soft with too much around my middle. I've shrunk a little with age, used to be six feet and now am about 5'10", getting very close to 200 pounds. I'm also a widower. My wife of 42 years died three years ago. I miss her very much.

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CHAPTER 1 The Davidson's middle daughter Monet was a worry to her parents. The 19-year was a gifted sportswoman and had taken a job as an attendant at the city's indoor aquatic center instead of going to college whereas her older sister Lisa would graduate this year with a Master's degree in computer science. Younger sister Colleen was the top female in her year class as a high school senior.

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Anne Evans looked across at her daughter Kathy, sitting at the other end of the couch. "Anything that you actually want to watch on TV?" she asked. Kathy raised her eyes from her magazine and shook her head. "Not for me, Mom. Switch it off if you want." Anne rummaged for the remote and switched off the TV, then picked up her photography magazine again. She sat for a while, aware that Kathy was getting increasingly fidgety. Eventually Kathy took a deep breath.

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Dan woke up, glancing at the clock that sat on the head board of his giant California King bed. 5:15 AM, the lighted numbers on the clock radio read. It wasn't set to go off, no need for that. Dan woke up every single day within a few minutes of the same time without fail. It made no difference at all what time Dan went to bed, still he would awake and get up around 5, sleep after that time was impossible.

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Every man should have a hobby. Some guys like to collect stamps. Others climb mountains, scuba dive or garden. Me? My hobby is fucking old women. And like any worthwhile hobby, you've got to put the time in to make it worthwhile. I mean, if mountain climbing is your hobby, you know it's about more than standing on the peak of the mountain. It's preparation and the rigor of the challenge. Hell, you could have a helicopter take you to the mountaintop if that was all it was about.

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Ellen Brophy was grateful for the ringing of the telephone, because it jarred her out of her melancholy reverie. She’d been thinking about Jack again, and how much she missed him, and that was never good. She picked up the phone and answered dully, “Hello.” “Mom?” It was Ellen’s daughter, Robin. “Mom, are you OK? You don’t sound so good.” “I’m awright,” Ellen said, although she knew she wasn’t. “Mom, you’ve been thinking about Daddy again, haven’t you,” Robin said in a tone that was half accusatory and half sympathetic.

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I had been married for 10 years but was newly divorced and on the dating scene again. I was raring to get out there, flaunt my stuff and have fun for once in my adult life. Since I was a bit older than most of my competition at the bars and clubs I hung out at, I had to work a little harder than the 20-somethings to make myself look "hot." I worked out five times a week, watched what I ate and I didn't smoke or drink more than a few glasses of wine with dinner.

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"Heaton? Paul Heaton?" My assistant addressed the class of sixth-form boys. "Here, Miss." The teenage boy nonchalantly raised his arm. "When this class is finished Mrs. Horner wants to see you in her office. I've already informed Mr. Rotheray that you'll miss his lesson." She handed him a slip of paper and left the classroom.

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